


freckles

by orchestra



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bottom Kim Mingyu, Bottom Lee Chan | Dino, Bottom Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Dirty Talk, Drabble Collection, Fluff, M/M, Oral Fixation, Porn with Feelings, Tender Sex, Top Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Top Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Top Lee Seokmin | DK, porn with p...heline feelings, there are THIRTEEN of these devils.........my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchestra/pseuds/orchestra
Summary: vi. seokhoon, esniffling, seokmin shuffles back into the bedroom. his pajama pants, keroppi-patterned today, drag and catch on his heels. “you’re my emergency contact, don’t forget, hyung,” seokmin calls, muffled, probably with his head stuck in their wardrobe closet. their. jihoon’s heart creaks with the shutting of the door. he half-expects seokmin to pad back out with some ridiculous gloves, maybe an extra pair of rubber dishwashing gloves, because seokmin is always playful in the morning, but instead, he emerges a fucking crabstick, bundled up in that hot pink down jacket he borrowed from mingyu the other day, and waddles over to jihoon’s side. jihoon chest swells, and quickly deflates with a laugh as seokmin tips over into his arms.“자아,” seokmin yawns. he rights himself back up, and slips his fingers in jihoon’s left hand. in his woolly uggs, he gains only a centimeter more on jihoon. the warmth of his sleepy smile feels impossibly close. “출발!”--in their infinite and indefinite, arrangements, of what it means to ask, to receive, to glance, to bloom, to work up and into something comfortable and a bit like home (that is, to love).
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Chan | Dino, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Seokmin | DK, Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58





	1. 짝 (seoksoon, pg)

**Author's Note:**

> ah croptop wonwoo..thank u
> 
> i can't guarantee what this collection will always be about but .. i hope in whatever shape and size and texture, they may be something warm, maybe cozy, may ticklish, something worth your while  
> thank u for floating by  
> 🍋

“hm. hmmm. hm? hm! hm hm hm! hmmmmrrh.”

(the above is seokmin bemoaning, firstly confusedly, then frustratedly, then somewhat, well, affectionately, the discovery of some worn socks in the middle of his bed. pardon the freshness of his words. he has his toothbrush in his mouth.)

seokmin thinks to fold them (they’re fluffy indigo blue with small yellow and green triangles speckling random), but he then decides against it. he moves his toothbrush to his left, then places a hand on his opposite hip. now whose could this be?

there’s no use deliberating it very much, at least, for the purpose of sincerely answering the question. seokmin already has his final answer. the heel of the right pair is worn to an ashy gray. he just wants to deliberate, i guess, because what better use of the rest of these ninety-two seconds? 

from the looks of it, that pinky looks like it’s been trying to make a break for it. i never signed up for this! the seam seems to cry. a true distressed look. seokmin grins, and the buzz briefly numbs his bottom lip. he can picture the stern conversations under the covers at night. we’re a team! you’re vital to the balance of our efforts! seokmin can picture them very clearly, because he’d often been solicited into them, maybe sometimes against his will (though, can’t you pose, that his deliberate and intentional shuffling into the covers would be enough of a cosignment to the antics?), short deliberations with the soles of worn feet shoved into his face. more often than not, he’d accidentally jam his nose into the flat of said feet, and that’d effectively cut the whinings short, in bursts of pained-ticklish giggles.

seokmin laughs. he accidentally spits some toothpaste onto his dresser. oops, time’s up. he spends a few more moments gargling in front of the bathroom mirror, and thinks.

when he returns back to his room, soonyoung has taken residence on his blanket, diligently folding up the socks into a crumple of a ball. seokmin can’t help his smile. soonyoung rolls over to the wall with a hoy! and seokmin hops on, leaning over soonyoung on his fours, hitting him with a ginseng-spearmint blast. it’s super effective! soonyoung buries his nose into seokmin’s pillow, and threateningly waves his socks in front of seokmin’s nose.

head to toe, pretty, seokmin says, as he stares at soonyoung’s rumpled profile. he’s wearing a facemask. seokmin smoothes out the corners along soonyoung’s forehead. 

soonyoung blinks, then groans into his mouth, wriggling about on the bed. stop! don’t make me smile!

seokmin really loves the way he and soonyoung-hyung curl into each other when they sleep. something something, a match made in heaven, the perfect fit, etc. etc. seokmin rests his chin on soonyoung’s head, and tucks into a nice sleep.


	2. cast (jigyu, pg13)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it hit 100f here today.. i hope wherever u are, ur staying nice and cool and with peace in heart
> 
> thanks for stoppin by  
> 🍍

unfortunately, mingyu declares, it just couldn’t be helped. (어쩔thㅜ 없었다규!)

“uhn? yeah?” the straw ta-tangs off jihoon's bottom lip. he stretches his mouth out, pursed. contact!—and then his eyes widen. ohhhh? he splices, drags, tapers. _ohhhh_ , catharsis. he looks down at the plate that clatters softly on the glass coffee table. down below, two big toes wiggle mischievously, peeping through the hole that strikes right down the center of his pain au chocolat. jihoon grins into the swipe of his wrist. “you're a monster. was it that good? 어?”

mingyu’s still standing there, buttery fingers straight down by his side. his chest is puffed out. he’s smiling cheek to crumbly cheek, he’s nodding fervently. jihoon barks out a laugh. “sit, or it’ll take forever to go down."

mingyu chomps big a few more times. flakes of pastry flutter from his upper lip. “super super good, hyung.” 

jihoon, still smiling, pats on the sofa beside him, though he’s a beat too slow as mingyu's butt is already there, pressing flat atop the back of jihoon's hand, warm and, "haha!", incredibly soft. mingyu wiggles a bit. jihoon bends his thumb, and jabs upwards. mingyu yelps, throwing his ass further down. okay, jihoon thinks a bit woozily, okayokayokay.

it doesn't seem to have fazed mingyu any bit, who takes the iced americano from jihoon's slipping grasp, and sips. "what?" mingyu chirrups. "i'm freeing up your hand so you can eat." jihoon, rubbing his suddenly freed, clammy hand on the front of mingyu's jeans, hesitates. a pale pink begins to cross the bridge of mingyu's nose. they must be cold, jihoon's fingers. "unless," a conniving grin, "you're saying i can have the rest?"

their hands meet atop the viennoisserie. it flattens wah-wah under their joined palms. kinda hilariously, mingyu flexes his bicep. jihoon pops his tris, which makes mingyu whoaaa! in a one-to-one ratio of admiration and adoration. if you look closely, under the heat of their stupidly unfettered flirtatious chemistry, the poor butter has begun to seep out those beautifully laminated layers. wah-wahhh.

in the speckled light of their lounge, a change of location insisted by seungcheol who keenly noticed the stress break-outs along jihoon's jaw, mingyu looks alight, playful streaks in his hair. there's a sharp birdsong, unsampled, from the small grove swaying outside the window. mingyu jumps, and searches with eager eyes for the bird's nest. it's very—verdant? captivating? natural? mingyu turns to look to jihoon, head cocked. did you say something, hyung?

ah, hm. jihoon suddenly finds himself teetering on several butting, invasive thoughts (though, fundamentally, they are not very much mutually exclusive; let's craft: i'm hungry + i'm oddly turned on + i'm happy to be here with you→jihoon imagines mingyu straddling his chest, long legs pried apart by jihoon's firm wanting grip, as mingyu leans forward, teasingly smears some softened chocolate 'cross jihoon's left cheek, laps it up, and jihoon warmly lets him, lets mingyu kiss his nose, lets mingyu press him further into this present, lets mingyu let jihoon feel his hard cock along the cleavage of jihoon's chest, etc.).

"hyung, hyung!" mingyu giggles brightly. he flaps his hands in front of jihoon's face. "i won't steal it from you, so stop squeezing the life out of the bread! ah, seriously!" 

"ah, sewiously!" jihoon teases. he takes a big bite of the flattened pain au chocolat, and nods once. "not bad."

mingyu shimmies his shoulders, and teases, "gross." 

jihoon makes to flick his ear. wait a second, was mingyu's jeom always so—oh, haha, cute. you, jihoon wonders as he licks off the pebble of dark chocolate from his knuckle, taste better. 

“um.” mingyu is a full summer’s stroke of pink now, freckled 木漏れ日 high on his cheek, and really, you know the feeling, right, of watching mingyu flit his gaze this and that way, nose twitching, corners of his lips pulled up as he lets out a goofy “huhuh,” when channie tells him his ddeok-kalbi is the absolute best, or when he delivers an excellent ahjae gag under his breath on a gose shoot, you know that tingle you get in your chin from smiling so hard and hitting the floor falling for mingyu’s charms all over again—man, imagine that a thousandfold, concentrated deep deep deep in jihoon’s chest, a beautiful peony’s petals about to absolutely explode. god! how heavy jihoon's heart must be with love every day every hour every minute of his life! mercy him. "the importance of a balanced diet."

"yeah, yeah, keeps your ass fat too, apparently." jihoon finally thinks to yank his hand from under mingyu’s butt. it flops blissfully numb and smacks into his chest. mingyu, eyes squeezed shut, doubles over with a laugh, clutching onto jihoon's splotchy hand. jihoon can't feel much, except a vague radiance of heat from the massage of mingyu's gentle fingers, and the warmth in his tummy.

mingyu rolls and waggles jihoon's hand in his. "you should have said something!" which is cute, on both ends, because why would they, when they're perfectly happy like this?

jihoon goes, wha-cha, and baps mingyu on the forehead with his now tingling palm. in expert coordination, mingyu dramatically slow-mo's onto the sofa, fingers twined with jihoon's, as if to say, you're coming with me, whether you like it or not!

laughing, jihoon smiles down at mingyu, who's made himself comfy, feet swung up on jihoon's lap, and eyes shut, long lashes fluttering, as if tickled by the gentle breeze outside. in truth, jihoon can see, in the minute flickering under his lids, and the gentle imprint of crow's feet on sand, and feel, in the quivering strength of the fingertips that curl into the back of his hand, the silent ask for comfort. or maybe, to comfort? jihoon becomes acutely aware now, his other hand's a-beurre-hently messy, and he needs to pee, and the chord progression that was manifesting earlier is hopping off the brain train, but he doesn't want to let go of mingyu. yeah, he really wants this too. mingyu whines.

"hey," offers jihoon, "wanna go on a walk?"

mingyu opens his eyes wide, (he's just so pretty), and asks, earnestly, "do you?"

at this, jihoon tilts his head back. he feels the weight of mingyu's heels, then calves, press into his thighs, then a shifting of the cushions as mingyu now sits upright, legs tucked under, back straight, warm big hands gripping jihoon's shoulder. 

"good boy," jihoon laughs. mingyu emphatically pants with his tongue sticking out. blushing, just a bit, jihoon pats mingyu on the head, and, blushing, just a bit, mingyu presses his head into the palm of jihoon's hand. all this time, jihoon's not sure what to do with his croissant-hand, which hovers in the air safely above the leather seat. he should probably go wash his hands. jihoon wriggles his toes. uh oh.

it's unfamiliar, being in a space, in which there is no tick of metronome and static to pace jihoon through his usual rotation in the sun, and up or down, back or forward, is told only by the swooping shadow of mingyu's nose, the setting glow along the line of mingyu's jaw, his curled smile. in other words, jihoon has been on his ass for x number of hours, and, "i can't feel my legs."

mingyu snickers. "업어봐?" his eyes gleam. like the good old days. (actually, mingyu had piggybacked jihoon into his room just the other night and dumped jihoon onto the bed with such herculean strength, beating his chest, because finally, finally, after days of drought, he was going to suck his hyung's cock dry. so, like the good days [of now].) 

"only to the bathroom," jihoon mumbles. mingyu's already kneeling on the floor in front of him. naturally, he wraps his arms around mingyu, and mingyu takes his legs. peering at mingyu's pink ear, jihoon testingly raises his hand to mingyu's mouth. and he watches with bated breath, chest moving solely to mingyu's breath, as mingyu licks a stripe of chocolate off jihoon's palm.

"always so messy," mingyu sighs. he hoists jihoon further up his back. it knocks a soft laugh from jihoon's chest.

then they try, for shits, to walk out the studio, still piggybacking, but, as they excitedly plan what to eat and where to go to tap into inspiration, they walk straight into the sliding glass door, and the security guard watches them, bewildered, as they stumble out onto the street, cackling out loud. jihoon might have accidentally stretched out mingyu's shirt out while clinging to it for dear life, so he apologizes ahead of time, with a smiling kiss to the slope of mingyu's shoulder. and it must be accepted, because mingyu only wraps his hands more tightly, more lovingly, around the underside of jihoon's thighs, and loudly singsongs, unsampled, "a date with jihoonie-hyung, i'm on top of the fucking world!"

the birds' chorus realigns the tracks of jihoon's thoughts. the late afternoon sun is very warm. jihoon feels it on his back, on his toes, on the nape of mingyu's neck, which vibrates with mingyu's boisterous singing, and jihoon's happiness.

뭐, 어쩔thㅜ 없었다규!

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 오늘도긴하루엿네여.. ive been watching a lot of performances and wondering gosh.......how does lil channie do it??
> 
> anyway. i'd be happy to kno if even a small line or word from this brought u a smile of sorts  
> thank u kindly for swingin by! see u..... (melts)
> 
> 어쩔thㅜ 없었다규! - can't be helped! (with the 규 at the end cuz u kno a bitch cant help herself w mingyu-isms :- ( )  
> 木漏れ日 - sunlight streaming thru the trees  
> 업어봐 - hop on


	3. confit (verkwan, pg13)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, yes... verkwan...  
> a spur of a thought early this morning. so i let my fingers fly...
> 
> anyway, thank u for dancing by. i hope u enjoy!

“ah, it’s so hot. ahh, god, it’s balls hot. 아니 좀! stop fidgeting.”

hansol grins into his straw, a slowly unraveling bamboo stick. for some reason, his orange juice isn’t coming up—he peers into it and notices oh! a clump of orange pulp half-way through the straw. he grips it between his teeth and thwap-thwaps it against the side of his glass. in his efforts, it splashes a few droplets of orange juice onto seungkwan’s face. seungkwan’s face sours.

“sorry, sorry,” hansol titters. seungkwan, poor sucker, just roll his eyes and sticks his tongue out to lap at the stray drop on his chin. hansol stares, then kinda huffs through his nose and at the straw simultaneously. the orange juice burbles over onto the table. seungkwan slides down his bench with a hand over his face.

there’s a ceiling fan above them that they strategically placed themselves under. it spins, slowly and minding its own business, like it could care less to offer shelter to these two souls who will inevitably awaken from their early morning sluggishness, and persevere, to enjoy a day in a manner befit for them and them alone. 

but honestly, it really is balls hot. seungkwan had, still, insisted on the table next to the largest window, and also insisted on sitting adjacent to the glass. swiftly, hansol lifts his camera, and snaps two shots, smiling satisfied to himself. hansol feels sort of bad when seungkwan accidentally leans against the glass to shy away from hansol’s appreciative gaze, and yelps at the sear (you could almost hear the maillard of his sunscreen) of his arm. not enough, of course, to not straight up cackle at the way seungkwan shrivels up and dances like a nice leg of grilled squid. at that analogy, hansol’s stomach grumbles loudly. yeah, the paella last night was hella bomb.

“could you please,” seungkwan mumbles, reaching for hansol’s orange juice, “not think about food for, like, five fucking minutes?” he gingerly presses the cold glass to his elbow and pouts. hansol thinks the billowing white linen shirt looks wonderful on seungkwan. “flattery won’t help me get over the fact that you ate the flan i was saving for this morning. like, are you serious? i put my _name_ on it, you monster.”

hansol wags his finger. “i don’t think you could have appreciated it enough,” he teases, “so you’re welcome, actually.”

seungkwan drops his mouth open. maybe sticks his tongue out a bit on purpose too. anyway, he looks kind of fed up with hansol. if last night’s rendezvous on the veranda is any indication then, yes, seungkwan’s probably stuffed. hansol grins to himself.

“can you _not_ ,” seungkwan splutters, as he tries to jab the straw up hansol’s nose. hansol positively guffaws out loud, and seungkwan laughs into his own elbow, ears bright red, left more so than the other.

“two breakfast plates, jamón and fuet, yea?” seungkwan snickers at the way hansol’s head whirls up at the lady brandishing two wooden platters, and politely raises one hand close by his side for the jamón. 

“thank you,” seungkwan whispers down at the plate. the lady grins, then offers something, though it flies over seungkwan’s head as he marvels at the two beautiful sunny-side ups smiling at him. hansol, after some deliberate hand waves, ends up saying, “uhh, yeah! yeah, wow, that’d be so awesome, thanks a whole lot.” seungkwan slowly raises his eyes and winces at hansol’s radiating smile. god, it’s almost bothersome how easily hansol’s thoughts and intentions settle in seungkwan’s bones like this. or at least, not so early in the morning, when he’s just managed to get the kink out his calf from riding hansol in that loveseat designed definitely for leisurely sitting only, please.

“what’d she say?” 

hansol lifts a slice of bread, sniffs it deeply, and grins. he then holds one of the large holes up to his right, and winks at seungkwan through it. seungkwan jabs a potato with a fork, nibbling down on his fluttering smile. 

“she said they’re working on a recipe, and offered to let us try.” hansol snaps his fingers with flour-coated fingers. “what’s it, what’s it—you know what hummus is?”

seungkwan sets down his fork eventually, and cups a hand under his chin to look at hansol. there’s a lady behind hansol who walks in with a small puppy in her bag, greeting something cheerily and smacking a wet kiss on the cheek of the boy at the register. her arms are too preoccupied with books, otherwise she’d have hugged him over the counter, seungkwan’s sure. the girl who’d been hunched over a notebook finally shifted to sit over her other leg, in the corner table by the front entrance. a blender whirs softly over the jingling of some bathroom keys and jazz strings on the record player. hansol, his shoulders, and the curves of his smile, the crinkles by his eyes, his soul look so softened by the morning light.

“and they’re trying it out with, uhh, y’know, beets. they’re like, cousins of 무.”

seungkwan twitches his nose. “like, 단무지 무?” hansol looks up and goes, hm, yeah, and then slowly his eyes widen, “yo, that’d be so bonkers.”

sure, seungkwan chuckles. “hurry and eat. your food’s getting cold.”

hansol grins back. “yours is too.” seungkwan shrugs.

“god, i missed eggs.”

“right? like, i don’t think i’ve seen even hard-boiled ones at the convenience stores.”

“look at these beautiful—oh, thank you.”

“yes, thank you. wait, where’d this come from?”

“oh, figured you needed a refill.”

“워, sollie…”

“otherwise you’ll try to strangle me and force me to piggy-back you up the rest of güell, so—ow! why are your boots so _sharp_!”

“did we finally decide on the park?”

“yeah. i heard the view’s beautiful up there.”

“where isn’t it, here?”

“with you? very true. aha, you missed!”

“i’m gonna throw you down from the top of those stairs for all the world to see.”

“i’ll enjoy every moment with you for all the world to see, until my inevitable end.”

at that, seungkwan boisterously laughs. 

“well, i _guess_ i need someone to eat all the god forsaken tomatoes while we’re here, so.”

“love you too, seungkwan-ah.”

“Ah, 좀. your food’s getting cold.”

"응, 그래. 잘 먹겠습니닷."

"잘 먹겠슴당."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was working thru a seminar, and as i sat here, my brain veered down into memories of last year, through a city i think i may have done little justice to by my travels  
> if i could again, one day...
> 
> thank u again for sitting with me today  
> have a lovely day  
> 🐚


	4. someday, (jigyu, e)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me a ridiculous number of glasses of wine and jigyu piggyback videos to push this the fuck thru  
> a warm and thankful shoutout to anj for inadvertently supplying me the motivation (in the form of a constant steady flow of jigyu). as always, i appreciate u.  
> absolutely i just wanted to write bottom mingyu being topped by jihoon <3  
> absolutely this loses focus halfway thru (nth glass) and devolves to the pwp it should have been from the getgo but well i’m silly <3
> 
> ah! but well, i hope u enjoy (or laugh w me at the ridiculousness of it all bc man i go overboard w this one)  
> thanks for swinging by!
> 
> 🍋

it suddenly dawns upon mingyu that, indeed, things have changed.

first, mingyu feels it in his spine. it doesn’t particularly ache, or feel stiff. in the briefest moment, there’s a p-p-pop along his mid-back (he’d read something about this once before, something about, like, hm, volatile synovial fluid vaporizing, into gaseous fireworks of cider-fresh, effervescent catharsis). he thinks he feels it curve a bit, give a bit, tentatively, reflexively. his breath catches in the valley. it’s then in his palms. they’ve roughened at the base of his fingers, and along the strong life line striking steadily between his thumb and index. you never, however, notice your own callousness, and appreciate it (or fear it?), quite like when it’s flush against a contrasting softness, supple, swan, you, sand, sienna. mingyu acknowledges it, grips it, relishes in it. and just as the tip of his pinky begins to tingle with the press into beautiful, strong white, mingyu hears the ring. it pinballs about the shell of his left ear. the ring, now _that’s_ changed, in its timbre and body, and mingyu feels the hairs of his neck rise. or, maybe it’s the same, and the only delta is the distance between the trough of his lobe, and the crest of the soft upper lip that brushes it. or, the intention. intent? mingyu’s ear, it burns white hot.

“again, again,” seungkwan’s voice suddenly wriggles its way through to mingyu’s brain. he sounds mildly chafed. mingyu then realizes, oh, probably, as seungkwan tries to shimmy through the tight space between mingyu’s chest and the wall in front of him. from this angle, seungkwan’s face looks stupid. “would you two,” he squeezes, “stop randomly blocking the hall like this?” he pops out through the other end with a gasp. “seriously, and in the dark?”

mingyu sways heavily to turn to seungkwan. despite his reprimands, seungkwan, in the dim light of the tower fan left to slowly rotate by the couch, smiles something soft. mingyu feels a breeze from all the way over here. it passes by his ear, the left. he carefully lifts a finger to his lips, then brings his hand back down in one smooth motion.

“you’re,” seungkwan starts, then his face, violet blue, kinda flutters, laughing. he sighs. “sleep tight.”

mingyu pads softly down the hardwood, looking like one of those toy duckies, yknow, bobbling and rocking from heel to webbed toe, with a slow kind of confidence that like, whatever the pace, two waddles forward, one-half back, we’ll get there eventually. he bends over at the waist before passing through the door. he holds the form, hobbles over towards the bed and, whoosh, launches himself face first onto the bed, and lands on the duvet, with an immensely satisfying poof! he sticks the landing on his chin. there’s an exhaust of a laugh into the space between his shoulder blades. mingyu, giggling, inchworms up to the pillow. he turns his cheek to his left. there’s another breeze, more collected now, and mingyu lets his eyes flutter shut. he sighs softly. he’s warm all over.

as a last hoorah to a long day, mingyu slowly stretches his arms above his head, and groans with the taut constriction of the muscles in his back, glutes and thighs. he’s about to slowly release all of that niiice tension to unravel into a lush and lax sleep, when he suddenly re-registers the weight pressing into him from above. more acutely, mingyu feels the heat of an erection against his ass. he startles so much when he feels the length rock up into him, the tendon down his psoas almost snaps. 

(oh mingyu, you thought you could get away without coming to terms with your actualization, huh! what happened to “getting there”? silly goose.) 

“mingyu,” comes the ring again. it resonates. it’s heady, minty. mingyu’s eyes and mouth water. “thanks for the lift.”

“jihoonie hyung,” mingyu mumbles. his tongue is suddenly stupid heavy, mind and cock quickly filling with thoughts of his hyung. there’s a strong hand holding steady at mingyu’s hip, and then another sliding up under his shirt to press into his mid back. the steady and warm breath against his ear, it’s arresting. mingyu sucks in his bottom lip to stave off a whimper. it feels so good. “i—i thought you were sleeping.”

jihoon responds with a rake of his fingers down mingyu’s spine. it tingles first, then burns, the pink trails catching under jihoon’s slivered gaze. “sleep?” jihoon mutters low. he’s steadily rocking his cock down on mingyu, rutting into him as if into his bedsheets, motions so personal and practiced. mingyu shifts so jihoon’s cock can slot between his ass cheeks, and jihoon lets out a gravelly chuckle. “with you spread so pretty under me like this?” _oh_ , mingyu blanks, pushes his ass firmly back. it’s so thick. jihoon groans. “i’d be a fucking idiot to.”

“ah, hyung,” mingyu sighs deeper into the pillow. he’s blushing something fierce right now, and doesn’t want to give jihoon the satisfaction of knowing how giddy those words make him. “you had a busy day,” he finds himself saying, and they both know he doesn’t mean it when he stutters with a slow grind of his hips, “we should get some rest.” 

“i’m recharging now,” jihoon says, grinning into mingyu’s shoulder. he presses a kiss there, then to the bit of mingyu’s dusky cheek rising from the landscape of the pillowcase, an orange moon. the kiss is sweet and light, to the heavy drag of jihoon’s heat that brands mingyu _his_. the hand on his hip grips tighter, tighter, tighter, squeezes out a satisfied moan from mingyu. “relax. let me take care of you too.”

mingyu’s throat tickles with a short flight of giggles. he thinks back to that one night in akita when jihoon kneeled and stomped on his back as a form of massage therapy, though at the time, it seemed more of cathartic release for jihoon and his high-strung energy from all the relentless travel. not to say mingyu didn’t enjoy the spine realignment. in the present, briefly, he wonders how much things have changed since then—or, again, perhaps all that’s changed is where the wave breaks, and tickles their slow-dancing feet on the sand. the pillowcase bunches at the corners of his grin. “be gentle with me, hyung. i’m fragile.” 

“yeah?” jihoon drags a content sigh, as his hands slide down to rub at mingyu’s hip bones, thumbs taking a dip in his dimples of venus. mingyu nuzzles his nose into the pillow, and breathes in deep to ease the slow rolling in the pit of his stomach, where jihoon’s palms now press, so warm and firm and—fuck—mingyu lets out a broken moan: everything smells so much like _jihoon_. “you can take it.”

then give it to me, mingyu dares with a gasp. he lifts his head, and glances over to look at jihoon. “hyung,” he breathes. fingers tickle his throat. oh, god, fuck, mingyu’s pace quickens as two long digits brush and tug down teasingly his bottom lip. mingyu opens his mouth, invites them slide right in, and moans.

“suck,” jihoon whispers.

mingyu pushes his tongue through jihoon’s fingers, then wraps his lips tight around the base of the digits, sucks eagerly around each. he feels his spit bubble at the corner of his lips. it makes him squirm, grind harder down on jihoon’s cock. he’s dizzy, he loves the way his jihoonie hyung tastes so much.

“messy baby,” jihoon tuts as he drops a kiss to mingyu’s wet chin, up to his slick lips. the slim fingers slide around mingyu’s tongue, press in and out, down, and mingyu takes the fill, breathing heavy through his nose. “you like it when i fuck your mouth like this, huh.” mingyu shakily wraps his fingers around jihoon’s hand, and pushes it further in. it makes jihoon choke on a loud _fuck_. 

mingyu can’t tell what drives him craziest: jihoon shoving another finger into his mouth, or the slide of jihoon’s bare erection up the leg of his sleep shorts, or jihoon sharply slapping and gripping his ass, calling him a good boy. in the end, it’s jihoon pulling out his fingers, leaving his mouth terribly empty, and sliding them down to wrap around mingyu’s sticky wet cock.

“nn—anh,” mingyu chokes, throwing his head back. he feels jihoon drop his mouth open and gasp into the curve of his neck, tongue against mingyu’s pulse. jihoon slowly fists mingyu’s length, palms the head of his cock. “please,” mingyu can barely hear himself over the wet squelch of precum and spit, “hyung, _yes_.”

“fuck, gyu,” jihoon marvels. “drooling so much down here too.” jihoon pulls his hand out from mingyu’s shorts, and mingyu shudders down to his toes when he hears jihoon lick his palm and suck on his own fingers, moaning, satisfied. jihoon can tease mingyu all he wants for liking it messy, but when jihoon spits into his hand and reaches to fist mingyu’s weeping cock again, mingyu knows they’ve always been a match made for hell.

“you taste so good.” jihoon’s teeth graze mingyu’s ear. he hikes up mingyu’s shirt with a sudden sharpness, leaving mingyu feeling so bare and askew, back curving upward as if drawn by strings of moonlight. locks of jihoon’s hair tickle his skin. jihoon’s hair is still slightly damp from the shower he took before falling asleep on the couch, where mingyu found him, glowing white, body so light, as if his soul had left its vessel to trot the night sky, singing. that must have been when the milk of the moon had filled the vacancy, imparting a luminosity not unlike jihoon’s natural aura, so one must wonder then, if he simply is a child of the moon. mingyu gravitates, so naturally. jihoon mouths hotly at mingyu’s shoulder blade, and sighs. “look at you.”

mingyu whimpers softly, beckons by brushing the tip of his nose against jihoon’s. he cants his head, and presses their lips together softly. he mumbles, “like what you see?”

jihoon hums as he deepens their kiss, smiles, and then flatout laughs out loud when mingyu impatiently fucks into the flat of jihoon's palm, as if saying, _rude_ , i asked you a question, you dingdong. his laughter billows against mingyu’s cheek. mingyu puffs them out, and cutely pouts. 

“what dreams are made of,” jihoon pecks across mingyu’s cheeks, “but ever better to love.”

wow, mingyu drawls, okay, how many centimeters* today, huh?

then he yelps suddenly, when he feels jihoon firmly slap his cock on the low of mingyu’s back. “why don’t you tell me how many you feel when i slowly fuck into your tight ass, hm?”

“ah, hyung,” mingyu giggles, nervous, anticipating, needing. “stoooop.”

“don’t act like you don’t already know,” jihoon teases. mingyu hears jihoon sigh as he stretches over, and there it is, once more, stealing mingyu’s breath—he’s always so in awe of how jihoon can suddenly and surely feel so _large_ like this. he nips at the wrist of the hand that settles by his head; jihoon laughs softly, stifled by a rip of foil and a sigh. mingyu reaches back and grips at whatever he can—it’s jihoon’s knee—to keep himself steady through the motions of _feeling_ jihoon surround him with intense warmth. “seemed to love every centimeter down your throat in the studio.”

“shit,” mingyu gasps. he wants to laugh, but instead there are tears brimming his eyes as he recalls the delicious stretch of his lips as jihoon coaxed him through a thorough throatfucking the other night. he gulps to catch his breath. 

“crying that your hyung’s cock was all yours.” jihoon grins. he doesn’t give mingyu even a second to recover from his white thoughts as he uncaps the lube, and lets it drip down mingyu’s back. “you wanna suck hyung’s cock again?”

oh, fuck him. but also yes, “later.” mingyu reaches down to slip his shorts down and spread his ass, then slips in a finger, softly gasping. he watches jihoon watch him with a heavy gaze. it’s bewitching, warning. mingyu wants to play with his fate. “fuck me with it first.”

he cries out loud as he feels his finger slip in deeper, pushed in by jihoon’s firm grip around his hand. he controls mingyu pumping his finger in and out, wet and tacky. it feels so leisurely, so paced, but with one look over his shoulder, mingyu can make out in the dark jihoon’s jaw clenched tight as he focuses on the sight of mingyu’s hole puckering around his thick finger. it pins mingyu down, the gaze of reverie, of dedication. he lets his upper body sink deeper into the bed, deeper into the scent that both calms his heart and drives him fucking insane. 

“not enough,” jihoon mutters to himself, and mingyu loves that jihoon read his mind, because it feels so much better when jihoon’s slender fingers join his own inside, so close to perfect. “mm, there we go,” jihoon soothes, “sucking me right in.”

mingyu pushes his ass higher up into the air and bites down on the pillow. “love it.” his stomach clenches at the sensation of jihoon twisting _just_ right. “oh, _hyuuung_ ,” his voice pitches as he dares to look down between his legs and fuck fuck fuck jihoon’s pumping his cock snagged on his shorts and he can feel how wet he is, he can feel his cock twitch so pathetically with each rough tug, he’s aching, “hyung hyung hyung!”

he feels jihoon drop a kiss to his tailbone. it’s something so gentle and sweet, to the dirty slick of jihoon’s merciless fingers stretching him open. jihoon’s thumb presses into his slit so deliciously, mingyu lets himself drool. “good?” jihoon whispers, fond. his tongue follows, licking around mingyu’s rim, caught around the three knuckles scraping his walls. man _fuck_ jihoon, honestly.

“good,” mingyu whispers. he looks over his shoulder. suddenly, he’s feeling shy. “want you.”

jihoon shakily laughs, and pulls back to steady himself behind mingyu, lining his cock back up with mingyu’s beautiful ass. “baby,” jihoon sighs. oh. mingyu feels so _warm_. “tell me how you want me.”

mingyu rubs his face into the pillow, dries the silly little tears clinging to his lashes. he wonders if his jihoonie hyung knows how handsome he’s become, how much mingyu loves him (and again, what has really changed, all these moons, all these phases of jihoon later, when mingyu finds that he is still there, slow rotating, slow dancing with his hyung, in the sky). from the patient kisses peppered across his back, mingyu can tell, jihoon always has, always waiting.

“behind,” mingyu says, soaks in the soft light of the moon’s gaze, “take me from behind.” he hiccups when jihoon snaps his hips forward. “hyung—hyung, fuck me, please—”

a sharp slap to his ass cuts him off, and mingyu lets his body fall, as jihoon strips off his shorts and sweeps his heart out from under him. he thinks to blabber to jihoon that, n-nevermind, he’s just kidding, he really is fragile, he won’t be able to take all of his hyung’s cock, but then suddenly jihoon is pressing into him so thick and hot, and mingyu shuts himself and gratefully receives it.

“oh, _fuck_ ,” jihoon moans, and mingyu would too, if he didn’t feel stuffed so fucking _full_ of jihoon up to his god damn skull. “god, look at you.” his hands find mingyu’s shoulders, and press down. mingyu chokes on a gasp. yes, _yes_. “hmm? guess how many centimeters you’re taking, gyu.”

mingyu moans, “more.” he digs his fingers into the bedsheets as jihoon knocks a laugh from his lips with another sharp thrust. “all of it, give me all of it, please, jihoonie hyung.”

ooh, mingyu revels in the way jihoon’s hips stutter, loving that _he_ did that, loving that, with jihoon, it’s always a fun push and pull into each other’s teasing, warm embrace. he feels jihoon’s hands slide across his slick skin, seeking purchase on his broad back to better fuck into mingyu. and when he does, when jihoon fucks deeper into mingyu’s tight heat, hips slapping against his ass that he knows jihoon’s absolutely marveling, mingyu lets his eyes flutter shut with a soundless sigh. 

“mingyu,” jihoon whispers, under the tingling slaps of skin against skin, “ah, mingyu, _min_ gyu.” it’s music to mingyu’s ears, the adoration in jihoon’s voice. he fucks himself back on each thrust, to show just how much he appreciates it. jihoon chuckles low. he slides his arms around mingyu’s chest, as if to give a comforting hug, but instead jihoon claws his fingers deep across mingyu’s pecs, tugs and flicks his nipples harshly, because jihoon just knew that rubbing them on the blanket wasn’t enough for mingyu, and _oh_ , mingyu curves his back to let jihoon fit himself around mingyu. he humps down into the bed, mind washed clean as he feels jihoon’s legs brace around him, mounting him, pressing him perfectly into every space that jihoon makes for him. 

“too deep,” mingyu gasps, dizzy. “hyung, it’s so deep, i can’t—” 

everything feels so heavy, not like when mingyu’s simply piggybacking jihoon across a stage; it feels like he’s solely under jihoon’s gravity, and it's covering him, swallowing him up, claiming. mingyu grapples for the headboard, a corner of the mattress, fucking anything to keep himself from going under. his hands come short. he tries to blink into focus when fingers entwine with his own, and gently pull them across under his chest. jihoon’s kissing his neck and shoulders, soothing. mingyu takes in a deep breath, another, and focuses on the way they slowly lull together.

“so good, mingyu.” the words are fresh drops of cool rain, revitalizing. “so good to me, always.”

mingyu lets out a soothed sigh. the arms around him are so strong, so comforting, so present. they wrap mingyu up, into a place he never wants to leave. mingyu mumbles, “all mine." (stay with me.)

he feels jihoon smile wobbly into his back. jihoon breathes, “all yours.” (always have been, always will.)

when mingyu rocks back, testing, then teasing, absolutely intent on wringing out every delicious whisper of his name from jihoon’s parted lips, it feels like he’s floating now, anchored to jihoon, up up up together, until mingyu comes shuddering in his hyung’s embrace, his place, and jihoon in him, lips pressed softly together, ∆=0, a convergence of perfect sine waves of shy laughter, singing in the sky, and they settle back onto the earth, safe and sound.

  
  
  


“like this?”

”mm. perfect.”

“hehe. good night, jihoonie hyung.”

“mm.”

“if you get cold, just roll me on top of you.”

“mm.”

“or if you have a bad dream, flip over, i’ll protect you.”

“mingyu-yah.”

“응, hyung?”

“stop talking. getting seasick.”

mingyu laughs loudly, down into his toes. he feels jihoon vibrate, in his heart. then mingyu feels two arms anchor tight around his middle. he reaches down, and slips his fingers into the spaces, waiting for him.

“sweet dreams.”

“wait for me there, hyung.”

  
  
  


perhaps, ah, things have always been this good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby bottom mingyu <3
> 
> *oh shit wait oh my god i should probably explain: mingyu teases "god how many centimeters today?" which is in reference to a recent pun he made, when chan said he felt "센치" ("senti"-mental, which sounds like the korean pronunciation of "centi"-meter), and mingyu barked, "how many centi—" (cut off so pristine by the gose editors as per usual)  
> so he’s asking jihoon, after he calls him beautiful, how many centimeters/how much snappiness today and then ..we rolled widdit and..... lol oh my godddd
> 
> i'd be happy to kno if this.. actually yea i dont kno what else to say at this point lmao  
> regardless, thank u stopping by and giving this a read. if u enjoyed even a bit of it, that would fill me w joy. and if u too wanna wig out over jigyu w me, im on [twt](https://twitter.com/stayheysoulmate)!
> 
> stay cool out there! 🍋


	5. el li ps es (soonchan, e)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 어휴....... this had.. started with.. a semblance of a hope for a plot.. it quickly devolved by maybe the 6th paragraph into my Most Frequently Used Tag: porn with feelings
> 
> in truth.. what i had hoped here.. was to paint a pleasant picture of soon and chan very easily blending together in their separate reticences, and when kindled, flaring into two contrasting colors, of hyperactive desire vs. measured coyness (though, in alternate scenarios, i would imagine they would maybe equally exhibit each other thru their words/actions), but really, that's all to say, i think soonyoung would absolutely have a dirty and babbly mouth and fixate strongly on all the sensations that key him up, while chan loves to make people beg, and beg for others too, and anyway, this is just a horny mess, with something like emotion
> 
> and so.....if this brings u joy, even just a bit, i will think, oh, what a relief! 
> 
> thank u for stopping by. if at any point u want to ask me, what the fuck? [here i am](https://twitter.com/mingyuhoo), ready for the taking
> 
> 🥝

in our most earnest and warmest efforts to flow, leap, stumble, luge, through life, a cadenza of our five senses, six if you’re lucky, a page-turner, if only to hurriedly reach catharsis from today’s miseries or to seek the answer to that damn question on page twenty six, there will inevitably come a time when we will finally notice that period at the end of a sentence, so markedly potent and urgent, we skid to an absolute halt before it, toes poking into its subtle shadow. or maybe it’s the crotchet rest, in her curvature, such an enticing place of rest, and so, reclining, feet swinging, we take a breather. for some, these moments of stillness and acute clarity may come once a decade, on the eve of another new year, as suddenly our eyes flutter back open, in macerated stupor, and we wonder, jesus, what was all that for? for others still, maybe it’s more an ellipses, when we’re reaching for a bundle of green onions in the produce section, our hands still, in the gentle spray of the sprinkler above, and we slowly lose feeling in the cold, as we consider: where are we? who are we? how are we? (okay, thanks for asking. my back pain has returned, and i’m not very much feeling like myself, so i’m opting to narrate someone else’s fiction for the time being. how are _you_?)

similarly here, our lovers soonyoung and chan, will reach a pause. in their case, it presents to groggy-eyed soonyoung in the form of chan’s freckle, the one on his left cheek.

it’s the morning of a new day. their knees are poking into one another’s, and what would usually be his phone clasped loosely in his hand under the pillow, is instead the curled fingers of chan’s left hand. chan’s pinky presses into a callous on soonyoung’s palm. the morning pins and needles, wrapped in a rarified softness, keep soonyoung focused on the task on, heh, hand. there are things to be addressed from the night before. 

“morning,” soonyoung gets his on second try. his first is a dry air ball from the back of his throat. (chan really liked it when soonyoung choked himself on his cock, it seems.) they both barely stir, unconvinced. the summer blanket his mother sent him, blue and stitched with english teddy bears, makes for a pretty sunrise’s reach around chan. it’s very cute. soonyoung gives thanks. 

“our sleepyhead channie.” soonyoung claws the pads of his fingers into chan’s arm. “hm?” soonyoung picks up his head slowly. glancing about in the space of his room, now a touch unfamiliar, though perhaps closer to what soonyoung had envisioned as a place of his own, (though seeing the tiger cushion on the floor is just slightly bothering him), he holds his breath. 

in actuality, there’s nothing to be wary of. even the sun hesitates to step through the crack of the curtain, and instead, she shyly waves hello with her long fingers that waver and weave through the speckles suspended in this still, peaceful morning air. a sudden giddiness slaps soonyoung on the forehead, and he smiles to himself, entertaining the thought of fairy dust. chan, unperturbed, breathes heavily onward. at this rate, cunning soonyoung could maybe get away with anything. and so he leans forward and ever-so-gently kisses chan on the lips, on the neck, and then, in another flare of giddiness, sucks on a bit of skin. he nibbles, sucks again, presses the tip of his tongue against the warmth testingly. he pulls back with a punchy sigh. a pink peony blooms in the slanted sunlight, and shudders. soonyoung grins goofily, and in a bout of stifled joy, thrashes his legs and kicks his feet about, punching the air with silent whoop! whoop! wha-ha!s 

even after all that, chan only stirs, flips to the other side. soonyoung follows.

“hey, doofie,” soonyoung waggles as he slides a leg between chan’s, “일루와.”

suddenly, chan shoots up in the bed, and swirls to look behind him, down at soonyoung who grins. he snaps the band of chan’s briefs, having made their shy appearance from the frumple of the blanket. soonyoung licks his lips. can you blame him? 

“morning.” even soonyoung’s a bit flustered by the purr in his own voice, and chan fares no better, by way he begins to flush along his collarbones, and on his tummy. it’s so very cute. soonyoung’s fingers trail down the inside of chan’s thighs, and squeeze. chan snaps his knees in so fast to his chest, they almost clip soonyoung in the chin and knock him back into [rest].

“jesus,” soonyoung laughs. a bit disoriented from the rock of the bed, soonyoung drops his head onto the pillow, and glances up sideways to chan. and chan looks. well.

soonyoung slowly rises, first to his forearms, and then onto the palms of his still-tingling hands, as he stares into whatever bit of chan’s face is available to him. 

there isn’t much. most of it is turned to look down at the floor, where their pajama pants lay (purple plaid and doodley daisies, guess who’s whose), or covered by his unruly fringe, or the splay of fingers. the rest is. well. soonyoung swallows a nervous laugh. that’s right. the, uh, the task, last night, his hands, they’re sweating, things to say.

“did we,” chan starts quietly. soonyoung’s eyes go wide. he leans into chan, who slowly begins to fold over into himself. “how did,” and soonyoung presses closer, hands now wrapped around chan’s wrists, carefully, gently tugging, “when will,” until he can finally wrap his arms firmly around chan’s warm chest and press their bodies together, a delicate act of bending, unraveling, shifting to a decent fit. soonyoung presses soft kiss after soft kiss after soft kiss to that freckle, buffering, if only to stagnate the erratic jolting of his own heart. “was it good?”

at that, soonyoung pulls back. chan is—and it shouldn’t surprise soonyoung as much as it should please him in that, ah, _channie_ , way—chan is now earnestly looking to him, biting down softly on plumed lips, smirking. soonyoung snorts at the bravado, though you can see all the way from here how soonyoung melts a certain way under the gaze, coy. there is, still, a pressed orange-pink on chan’s cheeks, and in his smirk, a slight quiver, that soonyoung only knows to calm with a full press of their lips together. so he does. their lips slot together, as if they never should have parted. chan’s fingers then, they glide across the surface of soonyoung’s back, grounding in his matted hair, cupping his waist, and soonyoung feels his body finally satisfy itself with a nice morning stretch, into the heat of chan’s hands. 

they fall ε= poof =3 back onto the bed. their feet kick up. soonyoung wants to laugh out loud because, thrumming under his skin, zinging and singing with every brush against and into chan, is an unbridled and bubbling _joy_. the transistor that is his tongue, however, has been compromised, by chan’s own eager tongue, so that every laugh instead comes out a hitched and airy moan. it seems to get some message across, though, because chan doesn’t stop.

“was it good, hyung? hm?” chan grins, presses his front flush to soonyoung’s stirring cock. oh, so it’s like that huh. soonyoung rolls his hips up, wicked. “shit,” chan stutters. he blinks slowly, lips quirking into a grin. “tell me, hyung, was i good to you?”

“yeah,” soonyoung whispers, one hand cupping chan’s ass to bring him in closer, heavier. chan complies so willingly, eagerly ruts down onto his hyung. “so good, channie.” soonyoung revels in chan’s gasp as the tip of his cock catches against soonyoung’s hole. he lets his mouth drop open in a quiet oh, as chan rocks up and into soonyoung, softly whining. it’s so _fucking_ cute. “took care of your hyung so well.”

chan’s ears are pomelo pink. soonyoung tugs on them. chan tweaks his nipples in return, and soonyoung giggles. 

then there’s a silence that pends above them. in it, soonyoung slips his fingers under the waistband of chan’s briefs, and rubs the jut of chan’s hip bone. his hand is clammy. he watches steadily as chan leans back, then forward, then pauses, opens, closes his mouth. chan breathes. “really?”

soonyoung opens his eyes wide again. he slowly pulls his hand out, and anchors it into the blanket pooled around them. before him, chan sits on the hind of his legs, and his hands are softly grazing, or maybe just levitating, soonyoung’s thighs. it looks a chan who’s deep in the third stage of analysis and rectification. his eyes are trailing across soonyoung’s body, from this bruise to that bandage to (his) kiss mark, speculating and appreciating and reclaiming and (soonyoung flushes) and _marveling_ in the filtered amber of the morning. soonyoung fidgets, and it seems chan considers even the flightiness in his beck. there is expectation, and there is patience, in chan’s eyes. he waits. 

how many times, in this one written scene alone, have they paused mid-frame like this? how many times has soonyoung blinked in and out of clarity, how many times has he felt his own thought escape out one ear and slip back in the other, what is that thought, why is soonyoung chasing it? the longer (what is time, in rest?) soonyoung stares at chan’s face, embossed with furrowed brows and a deep dimple on the left, oh-so tolerant, oh-so patient, the more he wants to kiss it. soonyoung feels his lips stretch before he realizes himself that he’s smiling, and it makes chan look up, finally, at him, curious. he wants to kiss chan. oh, it’s as simple as that. yet when the earth has stilled like this, for the two of them, what is the value of brevity?

so, soonyoung stutters, “really.” he presses his hands to chan’s chest. chan’s slide up to meet his, not a breath wasted. “really, definitely. really, definitely, absolutely, you did, lee chan, you are so amazing, and i felt so good, you felt so good, i’ve never felt like this before, you made me feel so fucking good, you made me feel like i was good, and.” he feels a bead of sweat trail down the curve of his right calf. chan hasn’t blinked once in the past twenty-four seconds. and when his eyes begin to prickle and brim, soonyoung realizes he hasn’t either. “i’m so happy.”

“oh,” comes the rush of chan’s breath. the touch of chan’s warm cheek to his own shakes the petals of soonyoung’s eye lids, and they flutter down, soft, sending off a few stray tears into chan’s bangs. “hyung. 좋아해.”

soonyoung’s throat tickles. “그래?”

“yes,” chan says firmly. short and sweet works just fine, too. 

our channie really has grown, huh, soonyoung wonders. chan pouts, and flicks soonyoung on the nose. soonyoung lets out a goofy little _ehe_. his lips curl. he feels the dry spit on the corners of his mouth, and chan mindlessly rubs his thumb at them.

“stupid,” chan murmurs, slowly framing his forearms around soonyoung’s head and looks down at his hyung with a slight tilt of his head. “i was your best, huh?”

“whoa now, you,” soonyoung pokes chan’s forehead, “ _dingo_ , i never said best.” when chan pulls away chuckling, soonyoung’s hands trail after. they curl around chan’s triceps. his fingers dig in slightly to the taut skin, scrape gently.

soonyoung then laces his fingers behind chan’s head. it’s less hesitation—soonyoung can feel the hot reassurance pressing into his thigh. it’s not quite chan’s usual doting annoyance that he so liberally shares when soonyoung’s all up in his space trying to get the boy to fess how much he actually does like it whenever soonyoung tries to run across the dance studio carrying chan bridal style, roaring about hot potatoes or the like. it’s not—god, he hopes it’s not regret. soonyoung feels his left foot run cold. 

“you’re my one and only.” oop. chan snaps his mouth right shut. soonyoung feels the clatter vibrate through his chest, and then, soonyoung simply laughs out loud.

“ah, 진쫘!” chan sucks air between his teeth. he’s a blistered sunny side up smiling. “c’mon, hyung!”

“i’m sorry,” soonyoung breathes, and a tear goes bungeeing off his bottom lip, right smack onto chan’s chin. “you’re too much.”

chan grins. “tell me, hyung.” he sighs as he rolls his shoulders down. his back goes 뚜르르 and soonyoung shares in the satisfied groan, though more because chan drops his hips in the stretch, brushing their cocks together. fuck. soonyoung’s mind goes blank. he wants that dick. chan asks lightly, “what can i do to be your best?” 

soonyoung blinks dazedly and looks down between them. it’s a little silly how hard soonyoung is in an instant, at just the slightest pressure of chan’s full and heavy cock against his tummy. to have that fucking him open again—soonyoung’s moan dissolves into a little whimper as chan grips mercilessly tight around soonyoung’s hips to drag soonyoung’s cock up and down along his own. he lets chan maneuver him like that, lets chan handle him however he wants, because soonyoung trusts chan will only make him feel so good. they’re synchronized with every breath and slow roll of their hips into each other, and it seems chan’s equally as entranced by the pearl of precum beading soonyoung’s briefs as soonyoung is, as chan drags his thumb slowly in it, marvels the gleam on his thumb for a moment, smears it across the head of his own cock. soonyoung wants to cry. 

“hm?” chan lifts his thumb to his mouth. “what does hyung want?” he licks it clean. and, so simply, life resumes.

“fuck me,” soonyoung gasps out. chan dives in to kiss him, and soonyoung lays claim to all he can. he tastes himself familiar on chan’s tongue, a remnant of their savory evening, but soonyoung won’t tell chan just yet that he’s eaten his own come a few times in the past. they’ll build up towards that, eventually. for now, soonyoung licks into chan’s mouth, brazen. a heat burns up soonyoung’s spine when he realizes: chan’s so pliant under his lips and hands, letting soonyoung mewl into his mouth, letting him tonguefuck him like this, with his head heavy in soonyoung’s hands stroking his neck and tugging his hair needily. when chan suckles on his tongue, so gently, over a whisper of _you taste so good_ , soonyoung sinks deeper. “fuck me, chan-ah, fuck me fuckme _fuckme_.” 

the red welts chan leaves with a slap on his ass burn so deliciously, soonyoung thinks he drools. he whines as chan tugs off their underwear, cock thwapping heavy against the flat of his abdomen. the noise makes him shudder, and it seems it doesn’t go unnoticed by chan, who holds soonyoung’s cock, tugs, lets it recoil and slap hard, once, twice, “fuck, hyung, 왜이리 딱딱해? hm?” soonyoung forces himself to watch chan play with the string of precum with his pretty little finger. it’s masochistic, borderline cruel, and oh, god it feels so fucking good to watch his own un-coming in chan’s beautiful hands. “needy.”

vaguely, soonyoung wonders what the hell flipped in chan, who licks a stripe up soonyoung’s weeping cock, a satisfied noise in the back of his throat. he slips the head just past his lips, pouts, sucks at the tip so cutely. soonyoung digs his heels into the bed. fuck. chan makes a mess of himself, letting his spit dribble down his chin as he continues to mercilessly suckle the head of soonyoung’s cock, sometimes slipping out his swollen lips with a flustered whine. when chan looks back up at him, through cast lashes, soonyoung burns red in his ears. oh. he did this. 

mhmm, chan hums. 

“yeah,” soonyoung whispers. his lips part into a grin, feeling like he wants to be just a little mean, feeling like chan deserves a bit more, wants to drag chan _down_ with him. “씨발, 찬아.” chan spreads his knees apart over soonyoung’s leg, humps down. soonyoung gladly assists by grinding his knee up firmly. “c’mon, take it deeper.” he watches chan’s eyes gloss over as he sinks his pretty mouth down, enveloping soonyoung in a toe-curling warmth. “yes,” soonyoung gasps, marveling the way chan’s lips stretch around his girth. “yes, take it. yes, _chan_. good boy.” soonyoung bucks up into the broken, eager moan, and almost comes when the head of his cock bluntly hits the back of chan’s throat. he stills his hips with whatever scintilla of self-control he has left, searches chan’s glazed eyes. soonyoung’s pretty sure he’s gonna fucking explode, nothing in this universe can come even into the gravity of how amazing soonyoung feels right now. then chan swallows his spit, and soonyoung feels his cock slip in deeper into the vice warmth, and simply snaps. he grips the underside of chan’s jaw, feels himself through chan’s hollowed cheeks, and fucks chan’s mouth in earnest. coming, soonyoung thinks over the small chokes and gurgles squelching past chan’s slick lips, i’m coming i’m coming channie i’m—

chan pulls off moaning, and presses a chaste kiss to soonyoung’s navel. it whisks soonyoung’s breath away more than the throb of his cock begging for release. their foreheads meet, at the endpoint of chan’s timid trail of kisses upward-bound. the sparkles linger on each step path. soonyoung thinks he sees the twinkles, he can’t fucking see straight.

“hyung,” says chan into soonyoung’s dazed grin, leaning into the hand that slides from under his jaw to caress his cheek. soonyoung mindlessly wipes away a streak of cum, and taps his thumb on chan’s small freckle. there’s still something swirling in chan’s sloped eyes. soonyoung tries to focus on it. or maybe it’s his sanity going. good riddance. “i’d like you to fuck me.”

soonyoung laughs, and then stops short. chan looks so handsome in his arms. “huh?”

“take all of me,” chan murmurs. he cheekily grins then. “if you can handle it.” it rebounds off the wall, plinking against the corner of the dresser, full-swooping around the ceiling fan, splat back into soonyoung’s chest. his heart, that is. what a ride!

fingers tracing the line of chan’s ears, soonyoung breathes in. “i can. i want it.” 

chan presses his nose to soonyoung’s jaw, and breathes out. he laughs lightly, “欲しい?” he gasps, as suddenly soonyoung greedily spreads his ass open, and fucks up into him. his cock slides wet between chan’s cheeks. “ _hyung_!”

“장난하냐 지금?” soonyoung grunts harshly. chan grinds his ass down, flush on soonyoung’s length, exhaling on a sigh. guess not. “show me, chan-ah.” he smacks chan’s ass, presses one palm flat against chan’s quivering stomach. is he smiling too much right now? maybe. he's so fucking blessed. “show me how much you want hyung to fuck you.”

soonyoung leans back on a propped arm, tugs at his cock, eyes never leaving chan’s pretty hands sliding across the bedsheets to the tossed rubbers and lube. there’s an intrusive thought that clicks into his mind at the uncapping of the bottle: he wants to eat chan’s ass out so bad. soonyoung’s mouth drops open, and his cock gives a needy twitch. “fuck,” soonyoung gasps, his sight now full of chan’s ass up in the air, fingers slowly circling his hole. it’s so cute. soonyoung feels like he’s on fire, inside out, and he’s pretty sure he’s panting out loud right now. “turn—turn around. let me see you. wanna see your cute face while you finger yourself open for me.”

whimpering, chan turns to face soonyoung, crawls up until his legs are framing soonyoung’s flushed chest, and his erection bobs in front of soonyoung’s nose. soonyoung kisses the tip lightly, purrs at the precious whine chan lets out. he sticks his tongue out first before taking the length in his mouth, just as chan taught him last night. he suckles, lets out some cute 츄s he thinks chan would like, and it seems he does, because chan fucks the rest of his length into soonyoung’s mouth with a loud groan. soonyoung chokes, drools happily. 

a string of high moans follow, staccato, measured to what soonyoung imagines is each joint of chan’s pushing deeper into himself, and fuck, fucking, soonyoung bobs his head and messily slurps around chan’s cock, accidentally scrapes with his teeth a few times, but can’t help how excited he is, he wants to swallow chan’s come, he wants chan to sit on his face so he can eat him out, wants to fuck chan open with his tongue, wants to milk chan’s prostate until he’s sobbing, wants “to come so bad,” soonyoung gasps out, “fuck, channie.”

“where? hyung,” chan breathes, and his bottom lip’s caught so coyly between his teeth, that _chan_ gaze, the one that renders soonyoung dumb and dopey in love with his cock leaking pathetically in his sloppy grip. “tell me where you wanna come?”

“oh, god,” soonyoung moans. his back hits the mattress, and his torso curves, with each tug on his erection, the rubber tight, but he imagines chan’s so much tighter. soonyoung blindly clutches for chan’s hip with his free hand to bring him in closer. he thinks to reach for chan’s chest, his peaked nipples, busy being pinched by chan’s own fingers. instead, he rakes his nails up the smoothe plane of chan’s thigh, and pulls on the younger’s cock, watches it swing heavily, wet with his spit. sooyoung sighs with chan, who’s looking down at him, eyelashes fluttering with each thrust of his fingers. soonyoung gulps. he wants to come on chan’s face, in his mouth, on his neck, all over his back, on his ass, fuck it back inside, he wants to come inside channie and—

“hyung,” chan whispers, voice lilting, “‘m ready. please.”

soonyoung gasps, “일루와,” and chan, beautiful face painted pink and framed by a perfect, shy smile, slowly lies down beside soonyoung. their shoulders briefly brush, and soonyoung kisses chan sweetly on the lips, his jaw, on that precious freckle, back to his lips again, to ground himself as he settles above chan. chan looks up at him. soonyoung feels his breath catch. there it is again, suspension, and from up here, soonyoung feels like he’s looking down into two inky wells, and he wonders, if he dropped his wishes in there, would he ever hear them hit his earth, would they plonk and resonate in chan’s heart, would he ever know to unclasp his hands and breathe? warm palms run up his arms and rest at his shoulders. soonyoung blinks back into focus. in those wells, he—no, not inside—the wells are overflowing, and sooyoung can make out in the crystal clear spring water, a gentle bubbling, a warm song.

“me too,” soonyoung promises back, “i love you, too.”

and soonyoung is quick to catch the tears that overflow, bejeweling chan’s cheeks, as soonyoung rocks into him. they shudder. they kiss. and they stay still, for just a moment, pending, to ask each other, through a shared breath: where are we? who are we? how are we? in brevity, soonyoung drinks it all in, his joy and rejoice, and chan’s soft smile: in love.

“hyung,” chan sighs. his body goes taut, then seems to melt in soonyoung’s arms that cup him up into his warmth. soonyoung feels chan’s feet hook around his mid back, inviting him, and slides his hands to hold chan’s knees, spreads him wider apart underneath him. it makes chan buck down on soonyoung’s cock, choking on a cry. small fingers reach down to graze the stretch of soonyoung’s cock pumping into him. “h-hyung! inside, you’re—so deep inside me.”

it’s fucking music to soonyoung’s ears, washes out all of his own thoughts. all that resonates in his mind is the younger panting how big he is, how he’s stretching him wide open, yes yes yes, how he feels so good, how he wants his hyung to breed his ass, _fuck_. soonyoung wants to empty himself completely for chan, and fill himself with the hiccuped laughs and punched moans that tumble from chan’s lips. he presses his palm firmly onto chan’s abdomen again, imagines himself filling chan in return, and whines.

“맛있어, hyung?” chan breathily asks, head tilted back, so his eyes take a shade of onyx in the light. he’s got one hand linked with soonyoung’s, the other tracing his jaw, so stunningly, a display of beauty meant only for soonyoung. 

soonyoung shudders into the warm palm. “just where the fuck did you learn all this,” he laughs out. he’s gonna be the fucking end of soonyoung, but, well, perhaps soonyoung had already been at the mercy of this fate from the start. chan squeezes around him in response, and soonyoung flashes white hot. he feels chan dig his fingers deeper into his jaw. he croons, “fucking delicious, chan. hyung’s gonna eat you all up.”

when chan smiles up at him, it’s sablé soft, and soonyoung feels himself crumble tenderly. “all yours, soonyoungie-hyung.”

so soonyoung does, messily. he fucks his hips—chan likes it deep, so deep he can feel it in his tummy, he babbles—sharp into chan’s ass, rolls him up along the slope of his back with his hands firmly cupping chan’s knees, and that’s when soonyoung fucking loses his mind, watches his cock pump in and out of chan’s hole with his mouth dropped open, hopes chan’s feeling as wrecked as he is, wishes it were his come dripping down chan’s ass, devours every little bit chan offers him, chases after the sparkling in his chest, in chan’s eyes, mine, all mine. 

when they come, it’s together, aligned, hips and hands and hearts and all, and soonyoung, as he opens his eyes to the peppering of chan’s lips across his forehead and down his nose and to the tips of his ears and finds that small freckle, as he feels the hairs along the length of his spine settle, as he feels his blood begin to recirculate to the tips of his fingers clasping chan’s own down to his curled toes, as he hears again the ticking of the clock, the shuffle of noise from outside the door, the birdsong of morning, the words, those words, hyung, thank you, soonyoung thinks, oh, in his moment of stillness and clarity, indeed, there is nothing to be wary of, when they are, very happily, together, aligned, in love.

  
  
  
  
  


“you snore. _so_ loud.”

“i mean, you’ve known this for how long now?”

“yeah, but, like. when i can’t fall asleep next to you, it’s just—exponentially louder. i thought my ears were bleeding.”

“what? channie, you couldn’t sleep? was it too cold? oh, don’t tell me i kicked you off the bed.”

“no—ha! hyung, what? believe me, i’d have taken you down with me.”

“how did my cushion end on the floor then?”

“because, 바보형아, i had to make room for myself, and something had to go. you’d have cried if it were 용맹이 or 용감이.”

“true. not my babies. i need to cuddle all three of them.”

“ _ohhh,_ stop stop stop. no, let go of meee.”

“tell hyung why you couldn’t sleep. 또 나쁜 꿈 꿨어?”

(chan blinks up at the ceiling, then at soonyoung. his cheek is squished against chan’s forearm, and his upper lip is just slightly drawn up to reveal his cute front teeth. chan laughs.)

“응, 아니. was just, y’know. thinking.”

“고민고민 하지마~”

“어우, 쫌!” 

“ack! hehe. chan-ah, you can always tell hyung what’s on your mind.” (thdunk.) “let me into your heart.”

“mm. for starters?”

“yes, love.”

“can we. put the tigers away before we—uh.”

“you mean to tell me you _don’t_ have an exhibitionist kink?”

“no, you fuckin’ idiot, that’s _totally_ you!”

“damn, you’re right, though.”

(pfft) “so silly. all right, now please let me go back to sleep so i can recover from your absolute wreckage.”

(데헷) “here, c’mere. this is the warmest sun spot. and 용맹이’s butt is the perfect elevation—there. feel good?”

“mm. yes. you’re the best.”

“no, you are.”

“mm. will you stay with me?”

always.

"wait, but will you put them awa—"

"night night, channie-ya!"

" _hyung_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah.. i see u found me..
> 
> urrrrrhhhhhg (buries face in hands) 
> 
> on a side note, i truly adore the way channie talks w his lips pursed sometimes. 아 진쫘! so cute!
> 
> if u enjoyed this, oh, that makes me so happy  
> otherwise.. thank u for allowing me this space to luv on my 2 babies
> 
> as always, i hope you have  
> a wonderful day!  
> 🥨


	6. brush (seokhoon, e)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anj, whose one word prompt was cold, and then both she AND those seokhoon fuckers themselves proceeded to attack me with wonderfully icky sweet seokhoon thoughts this morning........ sigh
> 
> so i kinda dozed, as i enjoyed the winds of fresh air, and took off..
> 
> oh! these are set... post-idolverse? perhaps...
> 
> a lil glossary will be at the end for some phrases i smatter thru out ^^ the rest of them... up to u to google translate or not! they don’t impact the story significantly at all, i just personally felt warmed writing them
> 
> thank u for swinging by. i hope u enjoy this short collection of words.  
> pop a squat, say [hey](https://twitter.com/mingyuhoo), cry over seokgyuhoon with me!
> 
> 🍳

seokmin leans over the table, and lightly dips the knuckle of his middle finger into the bowl of 시금치국, laps at it, then draws a small scowl. he lifts his hand again to slurp off the bit of spinach hanging off the edge. the door bell rings, and seokmin launches off the balls of his feet. “hyung!” he cries out.

“what, what,” jihoon mutters, narrowly dodging seokmin’s swinging elbow, “hyung’s right here.”

seokmin finishes his twirl, and his half-apron flutters back down to his side, settling, like seokmin’s nerves, jihoon can make out the melody of those wavelengths from a meter away. seokmin, his smile, is bright. except, hm. jihoon leans over, drags his thumb softly across the bottom row of seokmin’s teeth, lets it catch on the corner of his lips. seokmin blinks, then softly sighs.

“don’t keep them waiting now,” jihoon steadies, and wipes the speck of green on the dish towel hanging from seokmin’s apron.

“ah, 응,” smiles seokmin. he bounds for the door. there’s a scuffling of short claws on the linoleum, under the pitter-patter of seokmin’s love drops, 아앙 우리 부끄부끄 와떠? 우리 부끄부끄 잘 지내쮜? and seungkwan’s brittle, i am _soaked_ to the bone, hyung, please, let me the fuck in.

jihoon, with a quick peep around the wall to see seokmin squatting on the floor, arms wide open to take in the spray of rain water from bookkeu and his mangy owner both, laughs, lifts the bowl into the microwave, and sets it for another ninety seconds.

  
  
  
  


he’s got a fucking meeting with adora and min suga 선배님 in twenty-five minutes, but he can’t fucking find his left glove—seokmin-ah!

“i swear,” seokmin grumbles sleepily, as he rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, “i didn’t eat it.”

jihoon, at the sight of seokmin swaying in the living room (a bit too close, he thinks with a pang of concern, to the television, which is propped up on the long mahogany dresser very prettily decorated with seokmin’s accolades from the korea creative content agency through the seasons, very polished and very sharp frames, oh boy), feels his shoulders and knees melt a little. he rubs his nose into the seam of his right glove, and laughs. “i’ll walk right out if i come back to vom on the floor.”

sniffling, seokmin shuffles back into the bedroom. his pajama pants, keroppi-patterned today, drag and catch on his heels. “you’re my emergency contact, don’t forget, hyung,” seokmin calls, muffled, probably with his head stuck in their wardrobe closet. their. jihoon’s heart creaks with the shutting of the door. he half-expects seokmin to pad back out with some ridiculous gloves, maybe an extra pair of rubber dishwashing gloves, because seokmin is always playful in the morning, but instead, he emerges a fucking crabstick, bundled up in that hot pink down jacket he borrowed from mingyu the other day, and waddles over to jihoon’s side. jihoon chest swells, and quickly deflates with a laugh as seokmin tips over into his arms.

“자아,” seokmin yawns. he rights himself back up, and slips his fingers in jihoon’s left hand. in his woolly uggs, he gains only a centimeter more on jihoon. the warmth of his sleepy smile feels impossibly close. “출발!”

jihoon has to save seokmin’s stupid ass a couple of times down the stairs, and when crossing their first intersection, and ends up pressing his hat over seokmin’s ears as they turn to match his jacket, but, oh, with their hands stuffed in seokmin’s pocket, he feels impossibly complete.

“and then when you fold it the other direction—oh, fuck! hyung, we have two minutes! let’s run!”

“no, no—seokmin-ah, we don’t have—야 이 갈치발새끼야! your fuck-(haha)-your fucking slipper!”

“just leave it, hyung! i already have my prince charming anyway!” 

  
  
  
  


when jihoon looks up and finds seokmin bolting out from the subway entrance, shoulders hunched and drawn up close to his ears, he’s already through his second cup of 물떡. he lets the stick waggle between his teeth. leave it to seokmin to wear the dim green of the neon sign so splendidly on the damp curve of his neck. 

“you didn’t have to come,” jihoon says instead, and shuffles to the right to let seokmin sidle up beside him. the chestnut roaster rumbles low by the back of their knees. it’s already fall.

well, seokmin sniffs, “i was already heading out in this direction.”

“mm.” jihoon glances down at seokmin’s shoes, at the cuffs of his black jeans. seokmin is tilting his head in that gentle angle, jihoon can tell, from the little mountain peak of seokmin’s shadow. “did you eat?”

“nope!” groaning, seokmin stretches his arms high high up above his head, and swings them back down, one landing across jihoon’s shoulder. “wanna grab something? mm, how about that 설렁탕집 you mentioned the other day?”

there’s a jingle of the door swinging open, and a pair emerge, one a marshmallow of pink, the other a bundle of black wool, and jihoon can’t help but think how funnily opposite the two men appear. he wonders, then, how he and seokmin must look now.

eventually, jihoon says, “you got brains after all, huh,” and takes a step out into the rain.

“wait wait wait! hyung!” the _shhhf_ of the umbrella is pleasant after a long day of harsh bytes, and so is the _fwump_ , and so is the soft giggle as jihoon slowly links their arms together.

“your shoulder,” jihoon mumbles, and his voice dissipates through the voile of rain. he pulls seokmin closer to his side. seokmin chastly kisses the top of his head.

under the lamp swinging above them, swaying in seokmin’s loud laughter, jihoon feels his shirt slowly begin to dry, and his heart thrum, warm.

  
  
  
  
  


“okay, good. yeah, good, sol-ah. let me try chopping a bit. i’ll tok you when i’m done. 어, 그래. 응, 끊어.”

the door of the studio clicks open. jihoon squints blindly at his laptop screen. it suddenly smells of baby powder and, what is that, corn chips? what time is it?

“어이구, 형님,” seokmin groans, as he sets down a cup of coffee by jihoon’s laptop, and yeah, for sure this fucker ate the last roasted-flavor 꼬깔콘, “we make more than enough to pay the utility bills, so _please_ turn the heater on.”

“helps me concentrate,” jihoon bites. he’s jiggling his knees. should have worn sweats. “almost done.”

seokmin hums an understanding. that means another hour, probably. sighing, seokmin runs his hands across jihoon’s shoulders, and tuts. “you’re shivering.” jihoon doesn’t realize he is, until the heat of seokmin’s hands leave him, and he almost seizes. he hears the click of the radiator, a rush of warm air that rivals the sigh seokmins lets out again. it tickles his ankles, yet jihoon tingles at the base of his neck, where seokmin rubs his nose, and laughs into the collar of jihoon’s shirt.

“you smell so bad.”

jihoon grumbles, “i think you mean musky.”

“no, hyung,” seokmin giggles, “you’re _nasty_.” his hands trail from jihoon’s shoulders, down his arms, splay across the white expanse of jihoon’s thighs. his thumbs rub small circles at jihoon’s hip bones. jihoon, curiously, tips his head back, pressing seokmin’s lips to his nape.

“you’re nasty for l-liking it,” jihoon chatters. he clamps his legs shut when seokmin’s hand brushes the tent of his shorts. seokmin pries them back open. his hands are searing.

“tongue frozen (head dumb) 'cause all your heat’s rushed down to your cock huh, hyung?” seokmin teases so lightly, with ease, seasoned arsonist of jihoon’s sanity. “let me help you.” and he kisses jihoon, softly with a closed smile, then sucks in jihoon’s bottom lip and nibbles, slips his tongue in to meet jihoon’s, frozen stunned, lets his spit wet jihoon’s dry, dry mouth. 

they pull apart with a pant. seokmin’s flushed cheeks lift with a smile.

“hurry back home, okay?” seokmin kisses the tip of jihoon’s pink nose.

(seokmin barely makes it two steps to the door before jihoon throws him onto the studio sofa and gives him the head of his lifetime.)

  
  
  
  


in the morning, it’s terribly quiet. jihoon shifts, and draws his knees in to his chest. his shins slide through ripples of cotton. he opens his eyes. it’s cold.

he rises, and leaves the blanket in a heap on the floor. in the kitchen, he traces the footsteps of a dance he’s memorized by heart, from his time spent leaning against the kitchen counter, following and adoring the sway and rhythm of those silly big feet, sometimes rocking together, stumbling over each other. moreso than that, jihoon thinks as he closes his eyes, do the echoes of that laughter guide him through the movements, and he feels, at the small of his neck, against his right palm, the warmth of two strong hands. the 죽 bubbles away on the stove, and jihoon dances, dances, until the kettle warbles, and jihoon is reminded again of the present morning.

the door swings open at the bump of his hip. jihoon sets the tray on the nightstand, and sits at the edge of the bed. he’s careful in the press of his hand into the mattress, driven by—hesitation? worry? fear? his bangs fall into his eyes. jihoon closes them, to hear the sounds of their breaths overlay.

“you’ll wrinkle your pretty forehead like that.” the brush of sleep-laden fingers is so cool across jihoon’s forehead. they pull a sigh from his lips. “걱정했어?”

smiling, jihoon shifts higher onto the bed, closer to the tube of macaroni selfishly taking both of their spots on the bed. “a little. idiots aren't supposed to catch colds, so imagine my shock.”

seokmin groans, and flicks jihoon on the forehead. jihoon laughs out loud, if only to relax his aching shoulders a bit. 

“i missed you.”

it’s the first sob that finally unties the knot in jihoon’s chest. when he breathes in deep, he can hear the flutter of seokmin’s lashes, and taste his gentle kiss.

“me too.”

(“i’ll be in the living room, seokmin-아—아 야야야 that’s _my_ pillow! don’t wipe your 콧물 on it!”

“but i miss your smell, hyung.”

“piece of shit, i know you can’t smell with your congested-ass nose! 놔!”)

  
  
  
  


hot, seokmin thinks, hot hot hot so _fucking_ hot, jihoonie-hyung.

“yeah?” jihoon asks, a bit absent, as he slowly rolls his hips down, grinds cute small circles with his ass flush to seokmin’s thighs. “what is, seokmin-ah.”

seokmin sucks in a sharp breath and grips his hands tight around jihoon’s ankles. he loves it, loves when jihoon takes him like this. “inside you, hyung,” seokmin pants, “so fucking hot and tight, sucking me right in.” he squeezes his eyes shut and tosses his head back as he feels jihoon clench greedily around him. “shit, hyung, stop, i’m gonna come.”

“not yet,” jihoon warns. his breath catches, and seokmin can picture with his eyes closed, jihoon flicking his own nipples, as he picks himself up and fucks back down on seokmin’s cock, working up a rhythm that has jihoon’s small _ah, uhn, oh_ ’s rising, half-step by airy half-step, until he reaches that pretty register that has seokmin falling for jihoon all over again. seokmin finally braves himself and opens his eyes. he drinks in the splotchy scarlet of jihoon’s chest, the kisses blooming along his ribs, the spurts of precum painting their stomachs in veneer. “want it—ah, want you to fuck me harder.”

seokmin laughs, with just a _touch_ of desperation. “let me touch you, then, hyung. please? let me fuck you how you want it. i’ll make you feel so good,” he gasps, “you know i can (give you my all).”

jihoon braces his hands on seokmin’s chest, and seokmin moves to greet them. smiling, jihoon leans down, and latches his lips to seokmin’s nipple, sucks and nibbles. it sends seokmin fluttering, and jihoon moans soft, as he ruts his cock against seokmin’s abdomen. jihoon takes seokmin’s wrists in his hands and, peering through his lashes, with his mouth pressing an open kiss to seokmin’s chest, moves their hands slow slow slow to jihoon’s hips.

and seokmin smacks his ass, jihoon all but melts into seokmin’s chest, with a soft gasp of _yes_ , before seokmin digs his heels into the mattress and thrusts up, pounds his cock into jihoon, filling him up, knocking broken moans of his name from those lovely lips.

“좋아, 형?” seokmin hushes into jihoon’s ear, as he wraps his arms tight around jihoon’s back, pulls him impossibly closer into his heat. “can you feel how hard my cock is, hyung? how hard you make me? fuck, _hyung_ , you’re so hot.”

“min-ah,” jihoon cries. seokmin feels tears on his chest and he moans loudly into jihoon’s hair.

“mm? harder?” he laughs when jihoon nods under his chin, slips into a moan as he feels jihoon try to fist himself in the tight space between their bodies. “꽉 잡아.”

he fucks jihoon with abandon, hugging his small body tight, so that jihoon’s sobs of seokmin-ah, hyung loves it, loves seokminnie’s cock so much, fuck me please _fuck_ me, are muffled, and the small adorations, of seokmin smelling so good, feeling so so warm, 좋아해, zip straight to seokmin’s heart. he holds jihoon’s head in his hand, tilts it just so, and presses kiss after kiss to his rosy cheek. like this, he feels so warm.

jihoon comes a fluttered sigh, and with that astonishing strength that always gets seokmin weak in the knees, whispers, “inside me,” and who is seokmin to disobey, as he comes, shuddering head to toe in waves of euphoria that rock him steadily in jihoon’s arms.

when they open their eyes again, jihoon abruptly lets out a cackle, at the sight of seokmin’s eyes rolled back, and tongue flopped out the side of his mouth. seokmin winks at him, then kisses jihoon on the forehead. jihoon returns the favor with a bite to his nose.

“window,” jihoon grumbles, and seokmin painstakingly untangles their legs, muttering that _he_ personally doesn’t mind smelling like sex.

“you said i was nasty.” 

“yeah, because you were. _this_ is musk, hyung.”

jihoon then swiftly reasons seokmin he can go sleep out on the couch and roll in his own musk, then, and seokmin whines, nooo! and snakes his limbs around jihoon before jihoon can kick him back off the bed. they gracelessly roll themselves in the blanket. seokmin rearranges their pillows, and watches jihoon bury half a smile into his.

“you cold?”

“mm? no.”

“tell me if you are. we can close it.”

“아냐. i’ll be fine (with you).”

  
  


when jihoon wakes in the middle of the night, and finds seokmin by his side, cast in soft moonlight, he thinks, ah,

like this, the world feels so warm.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fall is quickly arriving...  
> i baked a batch of cookies last night. my apartment smelled so wonderfully of the earth, and spice, and warmth.  
> that's what i feel when i think of seokhoon...
> 
> if you've reached this, thank u for ur stay! i hope these words could offer u some warmth as well  
> and if u want a cookie, i'll ship for the cost of 1 jigyu selca
> 
> tata for now!  
> -  
> 아앙 우리 부끄부끄 와떠?... - seokmin using babie voice with bookkeu, kwannie’s dog  
> 야 이 갈치발새끼야 - i think this officially made me fall in luv with svt lmao  
> 어이구, 형님 - i like to imagine seokmin would be one to very generously coddle his hyungs with an aigoooo <3 큰절 sort of thing esp to wooz..  
> 걱정했어 - similarly, i think seokmin always speaks with such warmth and intentional intimacy, and why waste time on an extra syllable, when you can spend it on more love? sorta thing


End file.
